


post mission baths

by dustbear



Series: friendly neighbourhood super secret agents [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathroom Sex, Bubble Bath, Cooking, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbear/pseuds/dustbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria and Natasha share a post-mission bath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	post mission baths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [100poundsofcatfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/100poundsofcatfish/gifts).



> A tiny little fic in the "friendly neighbourhood super secret agents" series from a prompt from 100poundsofcatfish - "I'm just here to casually prompt any and all Maria/Natasha fic... :) Tired-sex! Both are exhausted after hectic weeks but still want to try and get it on. Disastrous? Super sexy?"
> 
> I'd usually write disasters, but this time, I decided to spare them the trauma. :)

Maria would be alarmed at the bloody handprint on the biometric lock, except that it is a handprint she recognizes, and this is not a rare occurrence. Not anymore. And, she already knows that Phil, Clint and Natasha were scheduled to be back from a mission a couple hours ago. Phil must be going soft, she thinks, not being able to force Barton and Natasha into Medical anymore.  Still, she is a bit concerned as she pushes her door open.

She is calmed immediately by the sight of Clint and Phil sprawled out on her couch, decidedly not bleeding, although they are definitely sharing space not entirely intended for two muscular men. Clint snores, and Phil shifts slightly, wrapping his arm around the archer’s waist. It’s a wonder that one hasn’t fallen onto the carpet yet. Phil blinks awake, waves hello with his remaining arm, and points to the bathroom, signalling Natasha's location.

"We invited ourselves over for dinner," Phil explains, as Clint snorts and nuzzles further into his neck. The apartment’s first aid kit is on the dining room table, but it doesn’t show signs of an emergency, so Maria pads slowly to the bathroom, where the water is running, and the scent of a fruity bubble bath is wafting out.

Natasha smiles when the door squeaks open. She is submerged in the large claw foot tub, a luxury that Maria had hesitantly agreed to when they'd moved in together into a larger apartment. There is a newly applied gauze pad on Natasha’s forehead, and it is a bit pinkish, but otherwise clean and dry.

“Sorry about the blood outside. Headwound. Looks much worse than it is.” Natasha explains softly, her eyes almost closed.

“Mmm. How was the mission?” Maria says, crouching down to tangle her fingers into Natasha’s wet hair.

“Easy, but I’m pretty exhausted. How was work?” Natasha pulls Maria into a soft kiss that smells like honey and tastes like soap.

“Exhausting in a different way. I spent it talking to the World Security Council. What a bunch of dicks.” Maria mumbles into Natasha’s lips.

Natasha laughs. “Did you finally tell them to fuck off?”

“Of course not. I’m the model of decorum.” Maria answers with a straight face.

In response to that, Natasha splashes at Maria, and the bubbles separate, revealing Natasha’s creamy white - and slightly blue and purple bruised skin.  

“Heeeey. Don’t start something you can’t take back.” Maria scolds, wiping the soapy water from her eyes.

“Are you getting in here or not?” Natasha purrs, stretching out cat-like in the water, which is to say, entirely unlike an actual cat in water.

“I’m immune to your seductive tricks, Romanov.” Maria stands back up, shrugging off her holster and hanging it on a hook on the wall.

“Lies, you are the least immune to my charms.“ Natasha says, and she is entirely correct.

“ _You_ , yes.” Maria takes off her pants. “But not the Black Widow. Just my squishy - “ - and here, she pokes Natasha’s belly under the water, making the other agent squeal and wince - “ - soft, perfect Nat.”

Natasha scowls, but it’s not really her real scowl, not the one that makes trained agents quake in their shoes. “Oh, come on, Maria. Shirt off already.” she demands.

“Why are you wincing?”

“Oh my goodness, just get in.” Natasha groans, letting her head fall backwards against the tub.

“My, you’re demanding. What’s in that water? I’m not getting in if there’s gunpowder and rubble in it.”

“I took a shower before getting in.”

Maria stands up, in just her practical underwear and bra, evaluating the naked woman in her tub.

“Are you seriously checking me over?” Natasha accuses.

“You can pretend I’m checking you out, if you like.”

“Fine.” Natasha complains. “Minor head wound. No concussion. Bruised ribs, so be careful. Several scrapes and bruises and minor cuts, none serious and all already treated in your kitchen by Coulson.” she lists, exasperated.

“Alright then.” Maria grins, easily shrugging off her bra, and leaving her underwear on the floor as she slides into the tub opposite Natasha.

The water is hot, and the smooth slide of Natasha’s legs against her side elicits a pleased sigh. She slides down further, until her shoulders are submerged too, carefully nudging Natasha aside for some space in the tub. The tension of the day is dissipating already, pouring out of Maria’s tense muscles in waves of bubbles and hot water and the presence of Natasha’s soft skin. When she looks up, Natasha’s grinning at her, a wicked look on her face.

“You know what always makes me feel better when I’m really sore and tired?” Natasha asks, her slender fingers stroking a pattern on Maria’s inner thigh.

“I do, but we’re in a tub, and I’m not sure that’s why I took all that free diving training.“ Maria says, but her hands are already making their way up Natasha’s skin, gently grazing the recent cuts and bruises, but relishing every old curve and goosebump she knows so well.

Maria is frequently amazed at the power she holds over Natasha’s body, now relaxed and languid under her fingers. “Don’t stop, or I will kill you in your sleep,” Natasha swears softly, and Maria decides to make Natasha a little bit less relaxed.

A couple minutes later, when Natasha’s back is arched and rigid(and then seconds later, loose and pliant), and Natasha is screaming her name, Maria considers that being able to hold her breath underwater for at least three minutes is actually a particularly useful skill.

“We can hear you, you know!” Clint yells from the living room, but Maria doesn’t care. She’s spent many nights in hotel rooms adjoining the Barton-Coulson room, and really, really, does not care.

The water is cold by the time Natasha feels like moving again, even though they’ve spent most of the time just stretched out against each other. It’s not Maria’s preferred form of cuddling; she is not quite the aficionado of tubs and bubble baths that Natasha is, but it is impossibly hard to say no to her exhausted girlfriend - who’d actually fallen asleep slumped against her in seconds. Maria had considered waking her before they’d both started to resemble prunes, but even now, suddenly waking Natasha without enough space to back off is a fool’s task.

Fortunately, Natasha is easily woken by the smell of greasy bacon, which is the smell that’s making its way under the door right now.

“Jesus, the water’s cold.” Natasha murmurs into Maria’s shoulder.

“And we’re all wrinkly, so please get off me and out of the tub.”

“Is that bacon?” Natasha says, untangling their limbs and picking herself out of the tub, wandering out with only a fluffy white towel wrapped around her.

“Oh my god, Nat, we have guests.” Maria groans, pulling on a pair of sweatpants herself.

“Clint and Coulson don’t count.” Natasha yells back.

“Nothing we haven’t seen before, Agent Hill!” Clint’s voice joins in.

By the time Maria joins them, holding a pair of yoga pants and a soft t-shirt, Clint is inexplicably shirtless, although Natasha is a bit more dressed - in what was likely Clint’s shirt.

“Barton, put a shirt on. Nat, here’s clothing that actually belongs to you.” Maria scolds, even as Phil slides a cup of blessed coffee before her.

“Ow.” Clint says, as an errant splatter of bacon grease makes its way across his bare chest.

“Serves your nipples right, Specialist Barton.” Maria snarks even as Phil raises his head to observe Clint’s shirtless cooking with interest. Her kitchen table - a heavy antique thing that Natasha had inexplicably fallen in love with at a flea market - is already covered with Phil’s file folders and miscellaneous paperwork. As expected, Clint ignores the paper entirely, plopping a plate of greasy bacon and eggs and toast down on a sheet of errant mission report, and pressing an equally greasy kiss to Phil’s forehead.

"How was your day?" Phil asks, as they all settle around the table with cups of coffee and breakfast. It is late evening, but Phil likes breakfast for dinner, and Clint is the only one of the three of them that enjoys cooking - so, breakfast for dinner it is. Maria glances around the table. Natasha is stealing bacon off Clint's plate, Clint is refilling Phil's coffee with an exceptionally adoring gaze, and Phil is relaxed and casual in his chair. The kitchen smells like bacon and Natasha's shampoo.

"It's really good now." Maria smiles, because it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! More prompts(of any sort) can be sent to me on [Tumblr](http://dustjane.tumblr.com/ask), or in the comments....I'll get to all of them eventually.


End file.
